Page 60 of Born to be Broken

Like an iron bar around her waist, Shepherd’s arm held her flush to his body, the uncomfortable handcuff still in place. They were not moving deeper into the room, just standing awkwardly as he leaned down to possessively sniff her.

“I would have preferred to mate you before this, yet forewent the experience because you desired to converse. I am also going to allow you a short time without the handcuffs,” Shepherd said, unlocking the metal at her wrist while still maintaining a stiff hold on her body. “Should you disappoint my trust, this coming moment will not happen again. It would be in your best interest to behave.”

Before Claire could reply, the numerous locks on the door began to hiss and her body was shifted so there was no view but that of Shepherd’s chest. The door was opened and closed, and only then did Shepherd turn them so that she might see.

Instantly panicked, Claire eyeballed the stunning blonde and rushed to throw her body between Maryanne and Shepherd. “What the fuck is she doing here? You promised me!”

“Claire, calm down before you give yourself an aneurism,” Maryanne teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I was invited for dinner.”

Bull-Fucking-Shit. There was a catch, there was always a catch, and cold dread settled over the Omega. Her attention darted towards the folding table, back to her massive mate, then over her shoulder towards Maryanne.

Claire was scared.

The Alpha female herded her forward, smiling and bouncing her eyebrows as if possessing no care in the world. “It was impossible to say no once he told me steak was on the menu… Don’t think for a moment that I came to see you.”

Claire’s nervous laugh did not sound the least bit reassured. The women sat, Shepherd moved towards a third chair in the corner to watch like a warden observing a convict’s last meal.

Enthusiastic, Maryanne dug into the food, made pointless inane chatter, smiling as Claire worked through the knot in her stomach and prayed the food would stay down. With the passing of half an hour, the tense situation calmed. Shepherd’s soft purr from the corner, and the approving look in his eye every time Claire looked over at him, helped to settle her.

Just having Maryanne near was extraordinary, and for a moment, Claire felt… comfortable.

“Maryanne,” swallowing the last bite of steak, Claire looked at her pretty friend and teased, “I think you may be the only woman in Thólos who’s still wearing lipstick.”

Full red lips curved up in a decedent smirk, Maryanne was proud as a peacock. “I have standards.” The woman eyeballed Claire’s hair, frowning. “And you have been slack in yours. You need a haircut.”

“As you must have noticed from the pre-cut steak, I’m not allowed access to sharp objects. I am also pretty certain salon services are not part of Shepherd’s philosophy.”

Maryanne cocked a snarky eyebrow and purred, “But gourmet food is?”

Claire looked down at their finished plates, frowning.

Maryanne ran a pet down Claire’s hair so she might show her the ragged ends. “You know, Claire, if it comes to girly things, you’re going to have to outright tell him if you need something. Your Alpha seems dense as a boulder in regards to women.”

Before she could stop it, the Omega burst into uproarious laughter. Hand pressed to her mouth, she imagined Shepherd’s expression behind her, and laughed even harder.

It took a minute before she could chide her cocky, smirking friend. “For fuck’s sake, Maryanne. He’s never going to let you come back now.”

“Oh.” Maryanne lounged back in her chair like a well-fed cat. “I think he will.”

While Claire composed herself, Maryanne began her duty. “I have visited your Omegas. They are blissfully unaware of your situation.”

And that was why Maryanne had come. Claire ran a hand through her hair, worried. “Do they think I killed myself?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. They would fret if they thought I was still alive.”

“Only because they’d fear you might cause them trouble.”

“Maryanne…” Claire warned, “that is not fair.”

With an arrogant smirk, Maryanne waggled a finger. “Life ain’t fair, sugar pie.”

“Life is what we make it.”

“Says the woman with scraggly hair and chapped lips. You clearly have not been making yours that great.”

Irritated that Maryanne thought to scold, Claire leaned forward and snarled, “And what the fuck is your point?”